


Don't Get Any Big Ideas

by outruntheavalanche



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Acephobia, Asexual Character, Asexuality, F/M, Gen, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 14:04:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5668654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outruntheavalanche/pseuds/outruntheavalanche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“So, what’s it like?” Solo asks him out of the blue.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Get Any Big Ideas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [james](https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/gifts).



> I don't know if I'd classify Napoleon's line of questioning as acephobic, but I'm tagging just in case. 
> 
> Written for [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/james/profile)[**james**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/james/) 's [](http://fandom-stocking.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**fandom_stocking**](http://fandom-stocking.dreamwidth.org/).
> 
> Title from "Nude," by Radiohead because ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯.

“So, what’s it like?” Solo asks him out of the blue.

They’re hiding out in a safehouse for the evening—to call it a house would be a gross exaggeration, Illya thinks bitterly, as he slaps a skittering cockroach away from his knee—waiting for reinforcements to come. Waverly had told them, before they left on this goddamned, hare-brained, ill-fated mission, that Gaby would come for them at sunrise. Sunrise is too far away.

Illya huffs a petulant sigh and checks his father’s watch; sunrise won’t be for _hours_. He’ll be stuck here, in this garbage heap, with only Solo to keep him company. Illya would rather be on his own, shooting his way through hordes of evil, bloodthirsty henchmen, than having this particular talk with Solo.

“What is _what_ like,” Illya replies flatly, though he knows what Solo is referencing.

“You know. Being… the way that you are,” Solo says indelicately, gesturing to Illya, as if that helps illustrate the point he’s trying to make.

It doesn’t. Illya scowls.

“You say that like it’s…bad thing.” Illya narrows his eyes and Solo withdraws his hand quickly.

“I don’t mean it to be,” Solo says, sighing. “I’ve just never met anyone before that doesn’t enjoy sex.”

Illya shrugs jerkily and turns his head to gaze out the window. The glass is smudged and he can hardly see anything; dull moonlight filters in. Illya sighs deeply.

How is this my life, he wonders, as he unfurls his long legs out from underneath his body. He stretches them and arches his back, cracking his spine. He slumps back against a cold concrete wall and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Is just the way I was made,” Illya says, forcing down a sudden flare of irritation.

“Your time with the KGB didn’t...” Solo falters again.

Illya cuts a sharp look his way; Solo looks almost contrite. “No. Sex has just never interested me,” he says, working at keeping his tone neutral, careful.

“Not even with Gaby? I’ve seen how you look at her,” Solo says. His brow furrows, as if he can’t comprehend why Illya can look at Gaby the way he does and still not want to—to _lie_ with her.

“I…I like Gaby. I enjoy her company,” Illya says carefully. “I want to kiss her sometimes. But the thought of us taking off our clothes and lying together… It does not appeal to me.”

“She’s a beautiful girl, though. You could change your mind once you finally get a look at her in the buff,” Solo says, his tone light and teasing.

“No, I do not think that would happen,” Illya says, sighing, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s run that exact scenario in his mind many times. 

He knows she’s beautiful and he often does find himself admiring her, admiring the curve of her mouth or the way her dark eyelashes flutter over her cheeks, or the way she says his name, low, honeyed, like a prayer. Illya can appreciate Gaby’s beauty, thank you very much, Solo. He’s not _blind_. 

Solo raises his eyes at Illya and waits for him to continue.

“I’ve had opportunities before… To lie with women,” Illya finally says. “To know them intimately. It’s just never interested me. Doubt it ever will. Does not mean I cannot…love.”

“So you do have feelings for her. You just don’t want to screw her,” Solo concludes articulately, brightening, looking as if he’s finally fit the last jigsaw piece into a puzzle.

Illya allows Solo a small smile and refrains from rolling his eyes at the man. “ _Да_ , yes.”


End file.
